Truth
by Epitome of Bold
Summary: They all knew the truth, so why bother bringing it up? DerekCasey, one-sided DerekLizzie, one-sided EdwinLizzie.


Notes:  
(1) Don't know how far away Queens is supposed to be...  
(2) Haven't seen any episodes since mid-season three, except for 6 ½ and Futuritis.  
(3) Probably OOC.  
(4) For some reason, Marti doesn't age in this piece. She's young for all of it, despite the time that passes. Just go with it.

Disclaimer: I do not own Life With Derek.

_The Truth_

They knew the truth. Nora, George, Lizzie, Edwin, even Marti. They knew Venturis were never followers, but Venturis don't fall for their step-sisters either.

The news was delivered at the same time: "I'm going to Queens! What?!"

Even though there was a group hug, cheers all around, they knew the truth. They knew Derek was accepted late decision because his application wasn't exactly sent in weeks before the deadline. Casey's was. Derek couldn't bring himself to send it in, couldn't be a follower, sent it in at the last possible second. But they knew.

They knew he was following Casey.

They knew MacDonalds couldn't pretend to hate the Venturis forever, and they knew the Venturis could pretend not to follow for only so long.

They knew.

They didn't say anything...because words weren't needed. They knew the truth.

--

They all say goodbye at the end of the summer. Hugs and kisses and smiles and tears.

Lizzie hugged Casey, three seconds.

She hugged Derek. And maybe he hugged back? Five seconds.

Edwin counted. Casey counted. Derek counted.

Lizzie tried not to count. Nora and George pretended not to notice.

As the two of them drove off in the early morning sunrise, Lizzie kept her eyes on that car. More specifically, the driver of the car. Derek.

Edwin kept his eyes on Lizzie, more specifically the single tear she tried hide.

Lizzie pulled her hoodie around herself tighter, and Edwin felt his heart tug.

He didn't reach out for her. He wouldn't let her pretend he was Derek.

Nora and George went inside. Marti followed.

Lizzie sat on the front stoop for hours.

Edwin left.

--

Three years later, Lizzie made an announcement at the dinner table, missing two oh-so-important members of the family.

"I got into Queens."

Edwin didn't look up from his plate. George, Nora, and Marti got up to hug her. Edwin excused himself from the table.

He didn't leave his room for three days.

Lizzie didn't even knock once.

--

Venturi men aren't followers. He remembered Derek's voice, low and stern, whispering this to him as soon as he was old enough to know it.

Venturi men are leaders. He told himself this and his fingers shook as he slid all the appropriate forms into the large envelope.

He almost cried. Cried because he was following. But he didn't cry.

Venturi men don't cry, either.

So, Edwin told himself anything that happened in those three days, didn't actually happen. Like an alternate space-time continuum that didn't actually exist.

He tried to tell himself he didn't actually try to follow her, didn't try to be her Derek to his Casey.

--

Venturis don't follow. They just don't. They don't cry either.

But on that particular day, he cried. And he followed.

The two pieces of mail he received sat on his desk, mocking him.

One, a letter from Derek saying that he heard about Lizzie's acceptance, with a picture of him and Casey together. Smiling and Derek's arm around her shoulder.

Edwin tried to not imagine Lizzie and himself in the same situation.

They weren't the Derek and Casey that lived in this house three years ago. They were the people they couldn't have been under the MacDonald-Venturi roof.

Some part of Edwin told him that once Lizzie left for Queens, she would be different. She'd be the person she couldn't have been under this roof.

The second piece of mail: a big envelope. They only sent the big envelopes when you got accepted, right?

Edwin didn't open it. He knew he got in. It remained unopened.

For a week, he didn't leave his room. He cried in his room.

He cried because Venturis didn't follow, but then again, they didn't cry either.

Lizzie didn't knock once. She knew. After all, she got the mail that day.

--

Edwin then changed his mind.

He manned up, became the Venturi even Derek couldn't be.

He never opened the envelope. He threw it in the garbage in the kitchen. Where everyone could see the big envelope addressed to Edwin Venturi. Where everyone could see Edwin had done the right thing...the Venturi thing.

He'd gotten in, but he turned them down. That's how Venturis did things. They always got accepted, they were the ones turning people down, they weren't following anyone, and they sure as hell didn't cry over it either.

And just as he'd intended, everyone saw it.

No one questioned it because they knew. They knew the truth.

Edwin didn't eat dinner with them for four days.

Lizzie didn't leave a plate outside of his door, either.

--

On the fifth day, Marti marched herself up to his room, didn't bother knocking and swung the door wide open.

(Venturis didn't knock.)

Edwin stared at her, didn't bother speaking.

There were no words he could say because she knew. Marti knew.

She dropped the envelope on his bed, slightly wrinkled but otherwise intact (because nobody threw anything away in the kitchen after that). They couldn't bear to look at it.

Because it would just scream the inevitable truth to them even louder. It wasn't that they were all ignoring the obvious. They knew but just didn't care to state it out loud. There was no need to so what was the point?

--

Edwin never announced that he would be attending Queens. After the envelope disappeared from the garbage can and Edwin actually showed up to the dinner table, they decided it best not to mention it.

So when Lizzie and Edwin packed up their stuff in the same car and drove off together, they knew where Edwin was going.

They knew why Edwin was going.

But then again, they knew why Lizzie was going too.

They knew.

--

Edwin knew, too, as he looked over and saw Lizzie, her head leaning against the window. He glanced at her mp3 player and pretended he didn't see that she had a playlist for Derek. That she was listening to it on the trip there. That she was reacquainting herself with him in her own way.

Edwin dug around in the back seat with one hand, arm behind the driver's seat at an odd angle. He found what he was looking for.

_Casey_. It was written on an old CD in Derek's handwriting. The car used to be Derek's after all.

Edwin put the CD in and turned it up as loud as it could go. He knew Lizzie could hear it, knew she couldn't turn her mp3 player up so it was louder that the music screaming the truth. That Derek loved Casey.

They both knew.

And as they drove off, the morning sun wasn't rising. It was hiding behind the storm clouds they were driving straight into.

Edwin repeated the CD over and over, didn't bother changing it, even after all the pit-stops. Even after all the times he looked over to the passenger seat and saw Lizzie shedding a tear or two.

She knew, knew he was doing it on purpose.

She knew he wanted to make her hurt as much as he hurt.

And he knew that she already did.

But what the fuck? They both knew, so why should it matter?

--

Sometime in December, Marti opened her mouth at the dinner table.

"They love each other."

George and Nora dropped their forks. The clatter filled the silence in an uneasy way. It wasn't something to bring up at the dinner table anymore.

"Who loves each other, honey?" Nora asked in that voice reserved for little children. Her tone was mixed with that don't-say-it kind of tone, too.

"Derek and Casey and Lizzie and Edwin." She said it simply, ignoring Nora's silent protests.

George almost choked on his water. They didn't mention it. It was another one of those stupid Venturi rules.

They didn't talk about when a Venturi broke the rules.

But hell, the Venturi boys had been fucking up these rules forever, so why not break the final rule. Another Venturi saying: Rules are made to be broken. Why not talk about it?

Because everyone knew. They shouldn't have had to talk about it.

They knew the truth.

They knew Derek followed Casey and Lizzie followed Derek and Edwin followed Lizzie.

The truth that everyone in the family knew—that the Venturi boys broke every rule in the book, that something was bound to go wrong.

But the final truth was that they weren't going to talk about it. George, Nora, and Marti all knew the final truth.

Neither George nor Nora justified Marti's question (_statement_) with an answer.

They knew, and they knew the truth was, you didn't talk about it.

The three of them finished dinner...empty chairs screamed to fill the silence.

That's how it would be for every future holiday as well, empty chairs. Never would all seven of them be together again.

Because the truth was, there was no recovering from something like that. It shattered a family, shattered the invisible ties between brother and sister (_stepbrother,_ Derek's voice echoes in all of their minds).

It was just the truth, a universal rule. A truth that they had to sit back and accept no matter how much they didn't want to, but they knew they had to. They knew, and that's where the trouble was.


End file.
